


Of Chess, Passable Singing, and Musical Dinners

by HathorAroha



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Gen, Post-Curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HathorAroha/pseuds/HathorAroha
Summary: Adam is showing Chip how to play chess for the first time, when the latter asks him about how long he had known Lumiere back in his childhood. Takes place a few months after the curse.





	Of Chess, Passable Singing, and Musical Dinners

Adam wasn’t sure whether he should be bemused or amused at how much Chip had been trailing after him the last few months or so. It wasn’t that he minded,  _per se_ , he was just…surprised. Why would Chip trust someone who had been so awful the first few years of his life–he’d ignored the boy, he was just another member of the staff during his pre-curse reign. He’d had no ill will toward the boy, he just had paid no heed to him. And during the curse? Everyone stayed away from him during the curse, more or less, so it really hadn’t mattered how he’d felt about the child either way. Nevertheless, he still remembered the horror he’d had when he first discovered the boy had become a fragile teacup. Of all the things an Enchantress could turn a rambunctious little boy into! 

But now several months–at least half a year, maybe a little more–had passed since the curse was lifted, and already, Chip seemed to have taken a great liking to him despite everything that had happened before. Adam remembered once when Chip had accosted him in the kitchen, blurting out that reading was his favourite hobby now (Chip? Reading quietly for hours in an armchair? Without getting restless?), and he had been both surprised and befuddled. Wasn’t reading his  _least_ favourite thing? (Adults must get so  _bored_ sitting and reading for hours!) 

“Looks like it’s your turn to have a second shadow,  _mon ami!_ ” Lumiere had said that day, clapping a hand on the prince’s shoulder, grinning down at him. 

Adam hadn’t needed to ask to know that Lumiere had been remembering all those times when he was really little–years before his mother’s death–when he’d followed Lumiere around and copied everything he did, right down to his interests. 

Alas, even back then, he couldn’t convert Lumiere to a love of books, and by now he knew he never would, even if he spent the rest of his days trying.

* * *

“How long have you known Lumiere?” 

Adam looked up from the chessboard at Chip’s question. The boy peered eagerly up at the prince from his perch on the other chair with its two cushions so the child could reach more easily. 

“A while–since I was a little boy.” 

Chip, seeing Adam had finished his turn, immediately moved a pawn one more square. He didn’t know it, but Adam was set on letting the boy win; it was only fair for his first ever game of chess (which he had all of a sudden become interested in after having seen the prince and Cogsworth playing it the other night.) 

“When were you last a little boy?” 

“Oh let’s see…about fifteen or so years ago.”

“That’s ages ago!” Chip’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head in amazement. The prince can’t help a laugh at the innocently astonished expression. 

“Yes, yes, Chip, it was a long time ago.” 

“How old were you when you first met him? Was it when he came here to the castle?” 

“I was about four…” Adam stopped, hand hovering one of the chess pieces as he made some quick calculations in his head. “Yes, four sounds about right to me.” 

“Younger than me!”

“Not much younger than you. I remember it was a really stormy night when he arrived at the castle, spinning stories and telling great tales from the very moment he set foot in the castle.” 

“What kinds of stories?” 

“All sorts of stories, Chip.” 

“What were your favourites?” 

“Wait, remember, the bishop can only move diagonally. That’s right, you got it now. Anyway, my favourites? It’s hard to pick just one.” 

“I said favourites in plural. That means more than one!” 

Adam grinned, “So it’s fine with you if I say  _all_ his stories were my favourites?” 

“Sure.” 

“Excellent. Because he told the best stories of anyone, not that I’m biased, of course.” 

“What else?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, what else did he do with you for fun?” 

“He would put on performances,” Adam remembered, “That would cheer me up every time.” 

“Were they just for you?” 

“Oh no, they were for everyone should they care to watch. My mother always loved to watch with me. But…” Adam leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspirational whisper, “Don’t tell him this, but I always used to cover my ears when he sang. Shhh.” 

“I don’t think he sings that bad.” 

“Who sings that bad? Adam!” 

Adam straightened up in his chair, twisting around at the same time to see Lumiere had found them. The prince hadn’t heard anyone coming, probably due to his being so into the game of chess with Chip. The little boy clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide as if in apprehension, but Adam could see the smile slipping out anyway. 

“Nobody,” Adam said at once, and it wasn’t a lie, “I grew out of that, Lumiere.” 

“Ah.” Lumiere folded his arms with a nod, “So you were telling him all about my singing?” 

“I said I grew out of thinking you had terrible singing! Tastes change with age, do they not?” 

“So you’re saying my singing isn’t bad anymore?” 

“Practice made perfect, Lumiere. It’s passable now.” 

“ _Just_ passable?”  

“Lumiere!” Chip piped up as he jumped off the seat, the cushions slipping off onto the floor, “The prince was telling me he knew you since he was four years old! It’s been a long time since he was four.” 

“And a longer time for me, my boy,” Lumiere said as he bent down to give Chip a hug, “I was a few months away from my sixteenth birthday when I came here.” 

“Can you perform something for us soon?” Chip asked as Lumiere straightened back up from the hug.

Lumiere made a face like he was thinking very hard on this request. After a moment of reflection, he gave a dramatic sigh, shoulders sagging, shaking his head in sadness. 

“It has been so long since I’ve performed, I can barely even remember how.” 

“Lumiere! Every  _day_ is an entirely new performance for you!” Adam countered, pretending to take him seriously, “I truly think Shakespeare wrote his “All the world’s a stage” line just for you.”

“Even over a century before I was born?” 

“Believe it.” 

Lumiere grinned, “I’m flattered.”

“And don’t think I didn’t hear the performance you put on for Belle when she first arrived here.” 

Chip gaped around at Adam. “You  _heard_ that? Why didn’t you get angry?” 

Adam bit back a wince at the blunt words. He didn’t blame Chip for it in the slightest–he  _did_ have a hair-trigger temper back then, the boy wasn’t wrong about that.

“I didn’t, and even if I did, I knew Lumiere well enough to know that when he wants to do something, he’ll do it whatever it takes.“

_And laughter died when I entered a room anyway._

Adam quickly shooed away that thought, trying to keep his mood light for the boy’s sake. Fortunately, it was quickly superseded by another, arguably much happier thought, only for that to be muffled by a nudge of doubt. 

“Ah, never mind,” he found himself saying aloud. 

Lumiere looked over at him. “Never mind what?” 

“I was about to suggest you perform that again at dinner tonight, since I…but never mind. It was for Belle anyway. Did you see any of it, Chip?” 

“A little bit!” the boy confirmed, going back to the chair, putting the cushions back on the seat before climbing back up. “It was fun!” 

“Wait, you only saw a little bit of it?” 

“No time like tonight to show you the full performance!” Lumiere declared, “All are invited, but especially you, Chip! You too, Adam.” 

Adam’s hand froze part way through moving his knight. “Wait, me? Why? I heard it–isn’t that enough?” 

“No, and you know full well it isn’t. You  _know_ you wanted to see the whole show, right?” 

Adam set the knight down on its new place, leaning back in his chair as Chip leaned forward to have his turn. 

_He’s not wrong, really._

He remembered Belle telling him all about the performance Lumiere had conducted. He too remembered wishing that he could have seen the full production number–it had sounded so wonderful, so much like the performances he remembered Lumiere putting on during his childhood. 

_He’s right. Of course he’s right._

He would have asked how Lumiere knew he couldn’t resist a performance, but he was quick to remind himself that the man had known him a long time too. Long enough to know full well.

“I’ll be there, Lumiere.” 

“Just as I had thought! No time to waste then, my friends!” Lumiere gave them an extravagent bow, “ _Au revoir_  and see you tonight! I may or may not dance on the table as I had during the performance too. I can’t promise no chandelier swinging either.” 

With that, he turned on his heels, coat swishing about him, and dashed off before the prince had time to think about Lumiere’s parting words. And when it hit him, the prince hoped that it had been in jest about the chandelier acrobatics.

“No chandelier swinging please,” he mumbled. 

“What?” Chip asked. 

“Don’t worry about it. So, is it still your move or is it mine now?”

“Mine.”

 _A performance at dinner tonight._ How  _long has it been since I’ve seen him do that?_

Too long, he knew, it had been far too long. Up until now, he hadn’t realised just how much he had actually missed that dinner entertainment, Lumiere’s own way of brightening up a meal.  It had been his father who had put an end to it not long after his mother’s death, and, while he knew Lumiere’s remark on how long it had been since he has performed he had almost forgotten how was in jest, nevertheless, far too many years had passed without the same entertainment at the dinner table.

_No time like the present to bring back what used to be and undo what my father has wrought on the castle. There shall be music at dinner again, just the way it should always have been._

He could only pray it wouldn’t involve acrobatic antics with the chandeliers.

**Author's Note:**

> Used to be part of my 30 Days of BatB prompts, but extracted it out of there to stand on its own to see more readers.


End file.
